


Travel Enemies

by samcatburglar



Category: Slayers (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-25
Updated: 2019-11-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:40:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21555622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/samcatburglar/pseuds/samcatburglar
Summary: A scene from a modern rethinking of Slayers TRY, in which Filia is a novitiate in a convent and Xelloss is a powerful gang member. In their dealings with Lina and co., two strange people have to navigate a very normal setting: an airport. With a relationship as volatile as theirs, going through security will probably be the least of their problems.
Relationships: Filia Ul Copt & Xellos, Filia Ul Copt/Xellos
Comments: 2
Kudos: 14





	Travel Enemies

**Author's Note:**

> I tend to throw grammar and perspective out the window because this is my show, and if I wanna write both Xelloss’ and Filia’s perspective with 0 structure and about as much impulse control as a toddler, I’m gonna. I'm a simple woman, I just want these assholes to kiss.

Filia stares out into the sea of faces, both overwhelmed and enchanted by the diversity of the humanity she sees. Adolescent boys strutting in a band, loudly chattering while their chaperone leads them through throngs of people. Babies giggling delightedly as they are placed atop suitcases like a throne, rolled to and fro by their smiling parents. Some don’t look as happy, of course. The haggard traveler, laying across a bench with features pinched in the frustrating effort of trying to sleep. The frantic businessman running with his tie flapping behind him. All of them carrying hopes and dreams and lives and memories. What a menagerie! She thinks, beginning to idly pick at a nail.

Her flight is in 11 hours, but Filia is here anyway. Because for all of her existential delight in the variety of human beings, flights make her nervous. Not the act of flying itself, but the logistics of it. How do they know which bags to put on which plane? Will they know this bag is hers? What if her flight is canceled, where would she go? What would she do? Best to prepare for all of these red tape lined problems in advance, and that means giving herself time. Giving herself a modicum of control over something as vast and complex as airports.

She knows it’s irrational, but she’s powerless to stop it.

Fortunately, being a novitiate within a holy order makes her very good at sitting in one place. Yes, she knows she can probably scoot from coffee shop to coffee shop, or peruse this country’s best-selling books, but it’s best if she stays where she is in case they call her name, or in case the flight information flashes bright red with a “flight canceled” sign — that’s how that works, right?

She pulls off that hangnail with a wince.

“Miss Filia, fancy meeting you here!”

She knows that harsh trill anywhere, and she’s surprised she didn’t hear him a mile off. Filia’s stomach drops. “Oh God.”

“Just Xelloss is fine,” the mobster replies cheerily. His smile is languid with a smug charm that has no effect on Filia’s stomach other than to pull it more towards the floor.

“What are you doing here?” she blusters as coldly as she can despite her irritation manifesting as a heated red in her face.

“Well considering this is an airport, I plan on flying somewhere.” 

What charm he initially possessed is dropped immediately, replaced with an antagonism that borders on childish. Something rare for a businessman such as himself. 

“Is that alright with you, sister? Or is it too scandalous? Humans and their scientific inventions, trying to imitate the hand of God with their steel and flying tubes! When will our arrogance cease?”

Anger curls in her belly at once, familiar with his fight and eager to have it with him. “The Catholic Church does not condemn flying nor do we condemn science! And I am not a sister yet, I am a—“

“A novitiate, yes, yes, I know, you don’t have to lecture me again.”

“Well I wouldn’t have to lecture you if you bothered to use the right terminology!” she volleys. “Calm and careful Xelloss Metallium, yet so frivolous with his words! And the rumors say you have a tongue made of silver, but what an unfortunate discovery I’ve made otherwise!”

“Oh, fuck, spare me.” he curses. Xelloss never curses, but this fucking bitch always does this to him. Already, after all of what, two sentences? He could just leave. He could always just leave, but time and time again, he is caught in these vapid battles with this vapid bitch, unable to tear himself. His heart pounds in his ears. “I bet we’re on the same flight, too, to meet Lina and the rest. That would just be my luck, to be stuck on a flying prison with you. Hell itself doesn't hold a candle to that!”

“Ha! Well, I am very happy to report that I am not on the same flight as you!” Filia is prim and proper and insufferable in her lofty tones.

“What? How do you know?”

Filia’s triumph is short-lived. Her shoulders slouch a little, but her chin and her resolve remain high. “Because…!”

“Because?” Xelloss presses.

“Because my flight is at 5:50!” She blurts this like she’s in an interrogation room.

“5:50? That—“ Xelloss flicks out his wrist to look at his watch. “Filia, it’s 7:32, that flight is long gone.”

“No, I mean…I mean 5:50 p.m.”

Xelloss’ eyes bug out of his skull. “5:50 p.m.?”

“Yes, that’s what I said, isn’t it?! Or are you deaf as well as dumb?!”

He blinks his bulging eyes and keeps them closed for a few moments like he has to reset his brain after hearing something so stupid. He hisses, “Why?”

“I don’t know!” she shrieks as she is backed very quickly into her familiar corner of irrationality. Her hand and her gaze return to pick at that now raw piece of skin around her nail. “Just— flights make me nervous, okay? There are lots of moving parts and logistics and everything and I just want to be prepared, that’s all!”

“You need 10 hours and 18 minutes to prepare? For what?”

“Yes, I need 10 hours and 18 minutes to prepare, okay, what is to you?! Leave me alone!”

Now it’s his turn to shriek. “Filia, that’s insane!”

“No, it’s not!” Tears of frustration begin to immediately prick at her eyes, and if she wasn’t aware of how stupid she was before, she certainly is now. Dramatic, hysterical, irrational Filia. that’s insane. She turns away, covering her face with one hand. “it’s not hurting anyone, just leave me alone! Go away!”

Xelloss grits his teeth and casts his gaze to the people now staring at the conflict-fraught couple. Disgust rises in his throat at the thought. Me? With this strange and idiotic woman? The delight in making people think he’s having carnal relations with a nun doesn’t even soften his nausea. What’s worse, making a girl cry should bring a pleasant grin to his face, like seeing a sunset, or a pretty painting. But not this girl. Not this strange and idiotic woman. Instead, Xelloss feels a horrendous tugging sensation in his chest. Don’t. Don’t you fucking do it. Don’t you fucking—

“Come on.”

“What?”

“I said come on. Excuse me, sir!” he waves over an airport clerk, a broad-set brute of a man with watery pink eyes. “A trolley for the sister, please.”

Filia is so confused that she can’t be angry. “What— What are you doing, hey wait—“

“I’m putting you on my flight.”

Filia’s voice pitching up to a scream that can be heard across every airport in existence, “You’re what?!”

“Shh!” Xelloss turns so that his face is now inches within Filia’s, and even though he’s whispering, he might as well be yelling at the same volume Filia had done. “The last place you want to make a scene is in an airport, and you’ve already drawn enough attention with your wailing!”

“My wailing!” she scream-whispers back. “My wailing?! It takes two to hold a conversation, you degenerate, and you were puffing and screaming all the s—“

Xelloss lifts his head with that charming smile of his as the airport clerk pushes a trolley towards the pair. “Ah, thank you, good sir!”

When he’s finished putting Filia’s luggage onto the trolley, Xelloss hands him a crisp 50-pound note. “Wonderful, thank you again.”

Both the airport clerk and Filia widen their eyes. That's a week’s worth of meals to a lot of people, Filia included. The man inclines his head, gushing with all manner of “thank you”s and “you’re very kind”s. Filia’s anger is somewhat doused by confusion and wonder, realizing that this is two good deeds in the span of a minute. Not that good deeds can be counted in such a manner (or can they?), but it is certainly something to note coming from someone who blatantly delights in all manner of violence and cruelty. Why take the time? What’s the point, when you’re of the opinion there never is one?

Xelloss is putting his wallet back in his pocket, seemingly having forgotten what exactly they were arguing about. Filia’s forgotten as well, and there is no longer enough anger to set fire to her words. She follows Xelloss through the crowds, shuffling a little to keep up with his brisk, capable strides.

Worry still knits her features. “You can’t just— you can’t just put me on your flight, can you?”

Xelloss, for what it’s worth, is actually quite good at discerning emotion when he wants to be. She’s confused, not angry. He answers simply, “Yes, I can.”

“How?”

They pass every line, past every kiosk, until they reach a counter sporting many signs that read “premium” in flashy lettering.

“Like this. Hello. One first-class ticket to Sydney, please, flight number eight zero seven, seat 1E please.”

“First-class?!” Both Xelloss and the clerk ignore the high-pitched squawk from the young novitiate.

“Very well, sir, let me see if that seat is available.” Xelloss waits patiently. He knows it is.

Filia, in her continued distress, makes the mistake of grabbing Xelloss’ arm by instinct. “Xelloss, you can’t, that’s—!”

Her touch feels like fire against his arm, and it sears right through his expensive, custom-made suit. There is the strength of earnest in her fingers, but it’s also so casual. Like they know each other. How dare she? He’s a hired hand with a job to do, and here’s this blonde floozy, making his life difficult, difficult, difficult! He jerks away from her grasp, once more pushing himself into uncomfortably close quarters with her. She flinches. Good. She should flinch. I could snap her neck right in front of these people and no one could touch me.

“That’s what?! A sin? Against the rules?! Do you want to be on this flight on this flight or not?!”

“I—! Yes, but—!”

“Then that’s it! That's it, you want to be on this flight, so I’m putting you on it, why do you have to ping-pong excuses and road-blocks back and forth when you don’t have to, it’s so simple—!”

“Because it’s a lot of money and I feel bad!”

Again, she’s screaming for the whole world to hear it, but she immediately gasps, out of breath and once more on the verge of tears. This time, however, Xelloss stills and he listens. He knows there’s more in her.

“Do you see how small my suitcase is?! That's all I have! Every single thing I own fits in that suitcase! I live in a convent with a pittance of an allowance, so excuse— f-fucking me if I feel uncomfortable taking your money!”

Everyone is now staring, all in a hush, at the nun who just said the F-word. Xelloss is among them, but unlike them, he has to admit he’s a little impressed. What’s more, he’s overcome with the absurd impulse to put her arm around her and shield them from their gazes. He doesn’t, of course. But he still lets his piercing gaze rake across them in silence, deadly warning. No. She’s not for you to look at. Only I get to have this. This my handiwork. When they all disperse in an uncomfortable stagger, Xelloss turns back to the shrieking Valkyrie.

“Tch. I thought you would be glad to take a mobster’s money.”

“Well I’m not!”

“Good news, sir!” The clerk’s voice is rich with highly manicured and saccharine joy. “ That seat is available. May I have your passport?”

She’s smiling, palm open expectantly. Filia lets Xelloss take her passport from her numb fingers, too shell-shocked and too uncomfortable to protest anymore. He hands it off. There’s a vacuum left behind by Filia’s protest, and at another moment, with any other creature, Xelloss would make his neat and tidy home in this unbearable vacuum. But not so now. Now, the mobster just wants the order to be done.

“…don't…worry.” Xelloss’ tongue feels thick as lead. “About the money. I’ve got plenty of it.”

Filia lashes out from her place of humiliation and vulnerability. “Oh, I’m sure, blood-stained and all!”

Xelloss shuts his eyes and cants his head in a jerking, robotic manner. He draws on all of the patience he can, his usually vast reservoirs of which seem to immediately drain just upon seeing the wretched blonde. Somehow, he finds the last dregs of it.

“What I’m trying to tell you,” he continues. “Is that if you’re worried about the inconvenience it causes me, don’t be. It's not an inconvenience, and money doesn’t matter to me. Even if I spent my last penny just now, it wouldn’t matter. I can always get more. Because what I’m after in life is knowledge. Secrets. And very conveniently, those tend to go hand in hand with money. And if people are smart, then no blood has to be shed at all.”

Filia doesn’t know what to do with this information other than to think about it. As she does so, she stares up at the man who, moments earlier, had inspired such violent thoughts to pulse like a sickness in her skull. But oddly enough, she feels that same distant awe she had felt upon her arrival, witnessing just a sliver of the colors humanity had to offer. With a strange twinge of both guilt and disgust, she realizes suddenly that Xelloss is one of them.

“Here is your ticket ma’am. Security is just to your left.”

“Thank you,” the pair say in unison, one bright, one contemplative.

Xelloss isn’t used to Filia’s silence, and if he’s honest, it’s unsettling. Suddenly he misses her grousing, her whining, her shrieking, because without it, the rest of the world seems to crowd in its useless buzzing. Not that her shrieking is useful. But it was different. Entertaining, even, witnessing a woman of God work herself up into such a fury. That blush was nice to look at, too. It didn’t just color her cheeks, it splotched across her whole face like a fever. That blush is gone now, instead replaced with blue eyes narrowed in a fearsome concentration.

They pass through security without issue. Xelloss represses a snort. Of course they do, he’s with a nun.

“Why did you help me?”

He rescinds his earlier assessment. Silence is better than this tugging sensation. He hedges. “Pardon?”

“I said why did you help me?” Filia couldn’t be clearer, couldn’t be more focused. She's going to get to the bottom of his human if it kills her.

Xelloss pauses, looking down at the blonde with lips twisted in contempt. He has an answer, of course he does. It's just there, on the tip of his silver tongue. The perfect, infallible answer.

“To save the airport of your screeching should your previous flight have gotten canceled. There are children in that airport. Such delicate ears, you know.” Xelloss doesn't wince, but his stomach does curdle. Silvertongue indeed.

Now it’s her turn to close her eyes and reset her brain after hearing something so stupid, but instead of immediately driving a knife in this rare wound of an opportunity, Filia throws her head back and laughs. Unapologetic, free, and loud, until she inevitably covers her mouth. Still, she continues to laugh.

Xelloss, bewildered by this blatant, sneering attack, immediately feels his hackles raise. “what’s so funny.”

“Nothing, I— nothing, really! Sorry, I’m not making fun of you, I swear, I just— hah!”

Her laughter simmers to soft giggles, and in turn, Xelloss’ anger simmers away, vapor in air. He blinks slowly, watching her like a cat watches a bird sing in a faraway branch. Too high to kill, but loud enough to hear.

“I just pictured the— the airport people giving out complimentary earmuffs to all the children in the airport and I just thought that was funny for some reason,” that sounded funnier in her head. Her shoulders contract. “I’m sorry.”

“Don't be.”

Xelloss blinks. That was his voice that just said that. 

Filia blinks also, feeling a gentle, unfamiliar warmth rest in her chest, unfamiliar as the laughter that had just sung from her mouth. Filia hasn’t laughed in years. Not because she’s been miserable, per se, or because her life is very tragic, but just because it’s very hard to get Filia to laugh. That, or no one’s ever bothered trying. 

The mobster, in his continued bewilderment, forces himself to focus on the things he does know. The facts. Knowledge. Three such facts make themselves known immediately. One: he does not like it when Filia says sorry when she doesn’t have to. Two: she looks more beautiful when she laughs than when she cries. Three: the previous two facts scare the living daylights out of him because those two facts can be symptoms of many more, much larger facts.

Was she this close to him before? Could she smell his cologne before?

Xelloss is the first to break the silence and widen the distance.

“So! Are nuns allowed to have cocktails?”

“Who— yes, we’re allowed to have cocktails!” Filia flits after him in another fury. “We’re not aliens, we’re human beings!”


End file.
